


kiss me once (now kiss me twice)

by Anonymous



Series: Jimmy/Stan fics [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Accidental Kissing, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the only thing Stan loves more than water is Jimmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Two times Jimmy and Stan “accidentally” kiss (and one time they do it on purpose).





	1. Chapter 1

Their first kiss is an accident.

No really, it is.

It goes something like this:

Jimmy’s helping Stan toss water into the back of his van. Stan keeps a seemingly endless repository of bottled water in the basement of his apartment complex. They’re making deliveries today.

It’s four in the afternoon, the sun is hot in the sky. Jimmy’s pretty sure that he’s sweat so much his pit stains are no longer just reserved to his pits. His back is drenched, and if this was a wet t-shirt contest, he’d be holding a trophy for first place. His t-shirt was purple when they started. Now it’s a soggy midnight blue.

“I think we’re full up on water!” Jimmy hollers from inside the back of the van where he’s loading water cases. This van is already a piece of shit, and another case of water will probably cave the axles.

He pivots around, and nearly knocks Stan over, who’s blocking his path.

“Stan…” Jimmy grumbles.

“It’ll fit!! It’ll fit, I promise, it’ll fit,” Stan says, his thick forearms straining with the weight of not one, not two, but _three_ cases of water. Jimmy can’t even see him behind the stacks of water he’s carrying.

Jimmy’s gonna murder him.

“Alright, hand it here, Blondie,” Jimmy mutters.

“Thank you,” Stan huffs, his voice squeaking a little with exertion. The water must be heavy.

Jimmy braces himself against the van as Stan passes the water up to him. Jimmy groans underneath the weight–- _Jesus_ , it feels like at least 45 pounds of water.

Jimmy nearly drops the cases, managing at the last second to to drop them on top of the other water cases. It’s like playing tetris. Except each tetris block weighs 15 pounds.

“Phew, wow, good workout for the day, huh?” Stan says, grinning that shit-eating grin of his. His blue shirt is also soaked through with sweat. And logically, Jimmy knows he’s supposed to be annoyed at Stan--but Stan looks like a goddamn golden retriever standing there in the sun, smiling like he’s just won an award for being the most hydrated man in all of Los Santos. And also, his biceps are covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and. Well. It’s a good look for him. He’s buff from lifting water all the time, and it shows. 

Jimmy quickly looks away.

“Yeah, whatever you say, Stan” Jimmy snorts, because he’s not really sure what else to say. Well, what he _wants_ to say is, _you’re an idiot and I love you_ , but that doesn’t make sense for the situation, so he doesn’t say that.

Stan takes a step back to give Jimmy space to climb out of the back of the van. And Jimmy must be a little woozy from lifting heavy water cases all day because he _trips_.

And falls on top of Stan, their faces smacking together.

“Oh God!!” Jimmy says, horrified, because they definitely–-their lips _definitely_ just touched–-they definitely just kissed–-

Jimmy rolls off Stan like he’s got the plague.

“Oh God, Stan, I’m sorry, are you okay, oh my God,” Jimmy hears himself saying. Stan’s on the ground, and he looks caught somewhere between laughter and surprise and confusion.

“I’m okay! I’m okay, ha ha” Stan chuckles one of his weird laughs. Jimmy offers out a hand to help pull him to his feet and Stan takes it, his grip warm and firm in Jimmy’s.

Jimmy’s pretty sure he’s turned the color of a tomato. He’s pretty sure this is how he’s going to die, because he just accidentally kissed _Stan_ , of all people-–

“Took a hard fall there, huh? You feelin’ okay? You look a little red. Maybe you’re dehydrated,” Stan laughs.

“No, no, no, I’m okay,” Jimmy says quickly. Maybe they can just move on from this, pretend like nothing happened. Yep, that’s preferable. They definitely didn’t just kiss. No, siree.

They walk around to the front of the van; Stan climbs in to the driver’s side, while Jimmy hops into the passenger side.

Stan sticks the keys in the ignition-–they hold their breaths while the van chugs and wheezes a few times, before the engine finally kicks in with a whine.

Both of them breathe a sigh of relief.

“Here we go!” Stan says, reversing the car out of the parking lot and merging into traffic. Jimmy straps in his seatbelt, and reaches for the radio before Stan can change it to something weird, like banjo music.

“Oh, and uh. Hah…Jimmy?” Stan says.

“Yeah?” Jimmy says, tentatively. He doesn’t like the cheeky tone of voice Stan’s got.

“It’s uh, not the first time someone’s fallen for me. Hah!” Stan says, laughing at his own joke, his chuckles booming in the space of the car. Jimmy flushes from head to toe. He knows Stan’s joking, but also, it’s kind of true. There hasn’t been a single person they’ve encountered who hates Stan in all of Los Santos.

“Stan…just drive,” Jimmy mutters, but he can’t help the grin on his face.

—

Their second kiss is not an accident, but, well.

Anyway.

It goes something like this:

They’re hostages in a bank robbery.

And the robbers think they’re dating.

So they think it’s absolutely _hilarious_ to make Stan and Jimmy stand so close their noses are touching–-

–-and Stan’s lips are a hair’s breadth away from Jimmy’s. Jimmy can _feel_ the ghost of Stan’s breaths on his own.

But that’s not the kicker.

The kicker is–-it happens AGAIN.

With different robbers, two weeks later.

“Kiss,” the robber in the cat mask says, his gun directed at Jimmy’s head. It’s a point blank shot, zero chance Jimmy would survive it.

He’d almost rather that, than kiss Stan.

Not because he doesn’t like Stan.

It’s the opposite of that. If he kisses Stan right now, there won’t be any going back from it. It’ll be a pivotal moment, and every other kiss Jimmy has–-both before and after-–will pale in comparison. He knows this for a fact.

Jimmy’s fallen for someone with two brain cells and thirty seven water bottles on him at all times.

That’s just what his life is, now.

“C’mon, you’re boyfriends, right?” The robber smirks.

“We’re, uh, not,” Jimmy says.

“We aren’t,” Stan agrees, “but…but are you going to shoot my friend Jimmy here, if we don’t kiss?”

“Yep,” the robber says.

Jimmy looks at Stan.

Stan looks at Jimmy.

And maybe Jimmy moves first, or maybe Stan, or maybe they move together. Jimmy closes his eyes.

Their lips meet in the middle.

Stan’s mouth is soft under Jimmy’s. The kiss is clumsy, their noses bumping together, and it’s chaste. Just a press of closed mouths-–Jimmy’s blood roars in his ears, his heart rate spiking.

When Stan pulls back he exhales, and just that little puff of breath against Jimmy’s lips makes Jimmy’s knees go weak. He can’t remember the last time he kissed someone so delicately, or so gently.

He thinks he might be melting. Or maybe that’s just the anxiety.

“…you guys call _that_ a kiss??” the robber says, and oh _god_ , he’s gonna make them do it again, Jimmy doesn’t think he’s going to survive this-–

–-but then the robber’s compatriots are sprinting out of the bank.

“Cops are coming!” The one in the bear mask hollers, and they all jump into their getaway cars and make haste. In less than 15 seconds, they’re gone. 

Jimmy and Stan are left still standing close to each other, coughing in the dust of the bank robbers’ departures. It’s a little awkward.

“Ahem. So, uh. I guess. We should, uh, probably go. Before the cops get here,” Jimmy says, his voice all kinds of strained.

“Yeah,” Stan says, and he sounds a lot more chipper than someone who was just made to kiss their best friend at gunpoint should.

They hop into Jimmy’s car and peel away from the scene of the crime.

Jimmy can barely focus on the road. All he can think about is how soft Stan’s lips felt under his.

“That…that was my first real kiss,” Stan admits, when they’re halfway to town.

That jolts Jimmy back into the present.

“Aw, jeez, I’m sorry,” Jimmy groans, because he’s been on cloud nine for the last 45 minutes of driving thinking about what just happened, but he didn’t realize that that was Stan’s first kiss EVER, and now it’s _awkward_ , and he feels guilty that Stan’s first kiss was at the behest of a goddamn _bank robber,_ for god’s sake-–

“-–don’t be,” Stan says, with a chuckle, interrupting Jimmy’s thoughts. “It was. Well, if I can say so myself, I thought it was kinda nice.”

“Really??” Jimmy says. Because. Because maybe that means… _something_. Jimmy grips the steering wheel tighter.

“Yeah,” Stan says, smiling, “I’ve never kissed anyone, and uh. I’m glad that you were my first, Friendly,” he says, so genuinely that Jimmy feels a lump forming in his throat.

“Aw thank you,” Jimmy says, and tries to stop his voice from cracking, because.

Well, because that kiss might’ve been the best kiss of his life, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Their third kiss is not an accident. **  
**

It’s entirely purposeful. But with a caveat.

It goes something like this:

Stan’s going on a date.

With Brenda, and he’s nervous.

“Take these,” Jimmy says, handing Stan a handful of condoms of various sizes.

Stan nearly drops them on the ground, like they’re poisonous.

“Oh, uhhhhh, no, I, we, Brenda, we aren’t going to…the sex? No,” Stan stutters.

“Just, keep one in your pocket or something, just in case,” Jimmy says impatiently.

They’re standing in Stan’s bedroom. It’s evening, stars dotting themselves in the sky, and Stan’s supposed to be going out to dinner in an hour.

Jimmy’s picked out something for Stan to wear, something other than a blue polo shirt and suburban-dad khaki pants.

Stan’s in nice, dark jeans and a navy polo shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes. He cleans up _good_.

Even still, Stan’s nervous. Jimmy can tell.

“Just…when you’re talking to Brenda, talk to her like normal. Make conversation, compliment her. Or if that’s too hard, just talk to her as if she were me,” Jimmy says. And then kind of wishes he could take it back. Because he doesn’t want Stan to talk to anyone else the way he talks to Jimmy.

“Can I, uh…can I ask you something?” Stan says, and he’s wringing his hands together, the poor guy. Jimmy softens a little. He remembers the swooping feeling of nerves before a date-–it’s been _years_ since he’s had that feeling-–but still. He knows what it’s like.

“You’ll be fine,” Jimmy says, smiling as reassuringly as he can, because it’s true. Stan is impossible to hate. He’s too friendly, too kind, too funny (even if it’s unwitting, sometimes). “But sure. What’s your question?”

“Can you…can you explain to me how to…how to kiss? Not just kiss, but you know. Uh, do “the making out”, you know what I mean,” Stan says, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Jimmy’s stomach drop into free-fall. He feels like he’s on an episode of candid camera, and this is a “gotcha!” moment. Any second now, Kiki is going to burst through the doors and laugh in his face.

But nope, it’s just him and Stan, in Stan’s bedroom. With Stan looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. About whether or not Jimmy can teach him how to _kiss_.

“Uhhhhhhh….,” Jimmy says, “you, uh. Want me to show you a video on Youtube? Or, or PornHub, or something?” Jimmy says, feeling like his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. Watching a video seems a lot simpler than trying to _demonstrate_.

“I uh…I mean, maybe it’s easier if you just. Tell me?” Stan stutters.

This is it. This is how Jimmy’s going to perish into the great beyond.

He can’t believe he’s going to do this.

He can’t believe Stan’s _asked_ him to do this. To teach him how to “do the making out.”

“Alright…okay, just. Sit on the bed?” Jimmy says, his voice sounding an octave higher. He’s definitely going to need to be sitting for this or he might collapse, and that would be really embarrassing. His hands are clammy. He hasn’t been this psyched out since the first time he asked a girl to kiss him after the dance in 7th grade.

Stan sits on the bed, looking up at Jimmy with wide, expectant eyes. Oh god. _Bedroom eyes._

Jimmy quickly sits down next to Stan and redirects his thoughts.

“Okay, so. So, a few rules about kissing. Um…” Jimmy says. He’s flying by the seat of his pants. He has no idea how to explain this.

“So…so, first rule. It’s important to, uh. Swallow. Because there’s…there’s gonna be spit in your mouth, and you don’t want to…well, it gets kinda gross if you’re not swallowing your spit because then you’re going to drool and…yeah,” Jimmy says, cringing at his own words.

_Wow, could you be any more unsexy??_

“Okay. Swallow. Got it,” Stan says diligently, with a completely straight face.

Jimmy would like to die now, thanks.

“Okay ANYWAY,” Jimmy coughs. “Um…next rule? Kissing is boring if you don’t…if you’re just putting your lips on theirs. You gotta…you gotta use some tricks. If you wanna be good. You, um. You know, you can, you can give them a little tongue, you can suck on their bottom lip, or, or…uhm…”

“Okay, tongue and suck! Got it,” Stan says.

Jimmy is going to burst into flames on the spot.

“And uh….the final rule is…uhhh…” Jimmy’s brain has gone static and he literally can’t think of any more “rules.” _It’s a learn-by-example activity_ he almost says, but catches himself at the last second.

But Stan’s watching him, expectant, waiting to hear about “the final rule”, so Jimmy thinks fast and says, “you gotta really like the person. I guess that should be the first rule, but. You know, if you like them, that’s half the work,” Jimmy finishes, lamely. Because it _is_. You could be kissing the best kisser in the world, and it wouldn’t mean a thing if you didn’t like them, too.

“Got it,” Stan says, a little slower to respond this time. He’s got a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Alright, well, it sounds like you’re all set to go!” Jimmy makes a motion to stand up and beeline for the door, but Stan stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Jimmy…can you show me?”

Jimmy’s heart falls into his butt.

“W…what?”

“Show me,” Stan says, smiling a little.

“Sh-show you?”

“Yeah,” Stan says. In the dimness of his bedroom, everything looks hazy around the edges, including Stan. Jimmy feels like he’s walked into a dream.

“I…you want me to–?”

“Yes, Jimmy, I want you to show me.”

“I…” Jimmy’s brain is stuck in a loop, somewhere between Stan asking him to explain kissing to asking him to _show it_.

“Unless…unless you don’t want to?” Stan says hesitantly, his face falling a little.

“Oh, no, no, I mean yes! I mean, sure, I…uh,” Jimmy stutters.

Stan waits patiently.

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Jimmy says in a rush of breath. He can barely comprehend this is happening right now.

He sits back down on the edge of the bed, close enough that their thighs are nearly touching, and Jimmy can feel Stan’s body heat in the space between them.

Jimmy’s never realized how _blue_ Stan’s eyes are.

“I can…I can see myself, in the reflection of your sunglasses,” Stan laughs a little.

“Oh, sorry,” Jimmy startles. He’s forgotten that he even has them on. His sunglasses are nearly a permanent fixture on his face, and even though he doesn’t ascribe to the whole “eyes are the windows to the soul” thing, his sunglasses are, in a sense, an extra layer of armor between him and the world.

Without them, he feels vulnerable.

But they’re safe, in Stan’s room. And Stan’s looking at him with a tender expression of _want_ on his face; Jimmy doesn’t think anyone’s ever looked at him like that.

Jimmy takes his sunglasses off.

“Ready?” Jimmy says, his voice shaky. He’s not scared, but he’s nervous. They’re on the precipice of something big, something momentous. 

“Mmhmm,” Stan says, and closes his eyes.

Jimmy takes a tremulous breath, and leans forward.

Jimmy resists the urge to go too fast, or too hard-–he’s been wanting this for longer than he even knows, but now that it’s happening, he wants to do it _right_.

Jimmy reaches up a hand to cup Stan’s jaw, stroking his thumb along Stan’s cheek, before going in for the kiss.

It’s just a press of their closed mouths, at first. Just like outside the bank. Stan’s moustache tickles Jimmy’s lip. At least their noses don’t bump this time, because Jimmy’s got his head angled to the side.

Jimmy pulls back a little, so that their mouths aren’t pressed together anymore, but they’re still close. They’re breathing in the same air, lips touching one another’s, but not moving. Stan’s lips are full and surprisingly plump. _Guess drinking all that water pays off._

Jimmy’s breathing sounds loud in his own ears.

“Kiss me,” Stan whispers, against Jimmy’s lips.

Jimmy feels his stomach swoop. It’s the only invitation he needs to lean in once more, and capture Stan’s bottom lip between his own, sucking at it lightly. Jimmy wants, and _wants_ , but he needs to slow down; he doesn’t want to overwhelm Stan.

Jimmy pulls away until they’re back to square one, lips touching, but not moving. Stan’s breathing heavy too. When Jimmy opens his eyes, just a little, he sees Stan looking right back at him through half-lidded eyes full of warmth.

Stan’s lips are cherry red and slightly parted, his cheeks tinged pink. God, he looks so _lovely_ , and the sight of it makes something in Jimmy’s chest ache.

“Was that, uhh,” Stan says, and his voice sounds _wrecked_ , like it’s been dragged over gravel. “How was that?”

Jimmy swallows, hard.

“Good,” Jimmy croaks, “You…you, you see how I did it, just now? Now you try it,” Jimmy says quietly. He closes his eyes, and lets Stan take the lead.

Jimmy feels one of Stan’s big, warm hands come up to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing at his cheek, mirroring what Jimmy did to him earlier. 

And then Stan’s kissing him, open-mouthed, their lips sliding together, warm, and wet. Stan’s an idiot in all other things, but somehow he’s got good instincts for this. Jimmy flicks his tongue out against Stan’s lip, and he feels Stan shiver.

Stan tries the same thing–-and Jimmy makes the most embarrassing _whimper_ when he does.

Stan pulls back immediately.

“Jimmy?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimmy gasps, breathless, “I, I’m fine–-”

“You…you _liked_ it,” Stan says after a moment, realization dawning, a hint of awe in his voice.

Stan doesn’t wait for Jimmy to respond–-he moves his hand to tangle in Jimmy’s hair and crashes their mouths together again. It’s less finessed this time, messier, wetter. Jimmy feels _heat_ rush through him, like he’s been struck with lightning. Stan bites down, gently, on Jimmy’s lip and when Jimmy gasps, Stan takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth.

Jimmy closes his lips around Stan’s tongue and sucks for all he’s worth, and Stan lets out a wild _groan_ , like he can’t help himself, and the sound goes right to Jimmy’s stomach, hot like a shot of whiskey. Jimmy wants to drink in Stan’s moans, all the little unrestrained noises he’s making.

It’s ungraceful, and their teeth clack at one point, but all Jimmy can think is _more_. He doesn’t know when or how long he’s wanted this. How long he’s wanted _Stan_.

Maybe it was the first time he saw Stan, on an evening when the sky seemed fit to plunge into the ocean, and Jimmy felt adrift and purposeless until Stan came along, and called him Friendly.

Or maybe it was the last time Stan did something completely idiotic, which was just an hour or two ago, when they were delivering water to one of the most notorious crime lords in Los Santos, and Stan insulted the guy by saying he looked more dehydrated than a shelled corn husk in the middle of summer.

Maybe it’s now-–maybe it’s Stan kissing enthusiastically, learning and copying everything Jimmy does, making Jimmy tremble and shake like the ground beneath him is splitting open.

Jimmy slows the tempo of the kiss, because Stan’s literally kissed the breath out of him, and if he doesn’t stop now, he doesn’t think they’ll ever stop. Jimmy gives Stan one final, lingering kiss, before pulling away.

Stan looks dazed, his lips kiss swollen, his blonde hair mussed. And he’s gazing at Jimmy, happy and content, warm as a flickering flame.

“You, uh.” Jimmy clears his throat. He feels like he’s run a mile, his heart’s beating so hard in his chest. “You better, better give Brenda a call, and um. I can, I can drop you off wherever you guys decide to get dinner.” The thought of Stan being with Brenda–-Stan kissing _Brenda_ –-makes Jimmy ache, but he’s not going to be an asshole about it.

He wants whatever will make Stan happy. Even if that means watching him get together with Brenda.

But Stan’s expression shifts from lazy and contented to confused. “Brenda?”

“Yeah. You know, your date? I think, uh. I think, now that I’ve, you know, explained kissing and all that. I think you’re, uh, ready to go, sunflower boy.”

Stan laughs a little at the nickname, bashful. He’s got a strange look on his face, one that Jimmy can’t decipher–-which is weird, considering the fact that most of the time, Stan’s an open book.

“That third rule of kissing you mentioned,” Stan says.

“Huh?” Jimmy says. He’s already forgotten what he said–-he’s pretty sure his memory has short-circuited everything that happened before the kiss.

“The third rule. About, about needing to like the person you kiss,” Stan says.

“Right…” Jimmy says, not daring to hope. Because, because he never gets what he wants, his entire life up to this point has been one misfortune after the next, and this feels like it could end in another cruel joke.

“I think…I think I’m going to give Brenda a call. And tell her that I’m busy tonight.”

Jimmy feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“W-why?”

“Because, well. First, because I think I’ve already found someone I like. And second, because, uh, you know what? I think, maybe there are some other things that person can show me too,” Stan says, smiling, like it’s the most matter of fact thing in the world.

And the ache in Jimmy’s chest spreads, and spreads, until he finally realizes what it is. It’s the nameless thing that pulls in him, whenever he looks over from the passenger side of the car to see Stan smiling and humming to himself as he drives. It’s the thing that makes him drop everything anytime Stan calls to him, even if it means jumping into danger. It’s the thing that makes him feel like he’s worth something, whenever Stan tells him he’s a good man.

“What do you think?” Stan says.

Jimmy carefully takes one of Stan’s large, warm hands between his own, lacing their fingers together. And then he leans forward, and instead of saying anything, he kisses Stan, sweet and soft; Stan smiles into the kiss.

“I think that sounds like a plan, Stan,” Jimmy says. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve something as good as this happening to him, but he thinks that maybe things are looking up. That the streak of bad luck in his life has run its course, and now there’s only good things left on the horizon. 

“Good. I wanna make sure I get my practice in,” Stan chuckles, leaning in for another kiss.

And he does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](https://haepherion.tumblr.com/post/184763656566/kiss-me-once-now-kiss-me-twice-part-1)


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